


It's Not Illegal If Nobody Knows

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: Vasir finds a gift for Liara.





	

**Author's Note:**

> number 3 for non-shepard ships week!! ill admit, [shadowbroker](http://shadowbroker.tumblr.com/) got me into this one....

Being a Spectre lent itself to certain benefits. The ones Tela Vasir liked best were the massive amounts of down time between missions, and that the Council’s only rule was that any reparations came out of your paycheck. It allowed her a degree of freedom even mercenaries could only dream of.

Which was _very_ handy when you occasionally did a bit of side work for the Shadow Broker, of all people.

“So, explain something to me.” Tazzik’s voice was deep enough to put adolescent krogan to shame, and even after years of working with him, it never failed to set Vasir’s skin prickling. “If this mission is from the Council, why am _I_ here? Pretty sure I’m on _at least_ seven separate watchlists.”

“Simple,” she said, crouching down to inspect the lock on the door to the cargo hold. “If I can’t get anything open, you will.”

Tazzik grumbled, and the navigator’s chair groaned as he sat down. “I better get overtime for this.”

Vasir pulled up her omni-tool and flipped through the apps. She really needed to rearrange them sooner or later. “You’re a merc. What even nets you overtime?”

“Whatever I say does. Though, seeing as this is an errand for the Council, maybe I should spring for _hazard pay_ instead.”

“You complain too much.” Unlocking the door was child’s play. She barely even needed her hacking apps. The holo-lock turned green for a split second before disappearing entirely as the door slid open, and she got to her feet. “Come on. Council wants a full inventory of what these guys stole, and it’ll take forever to do it myself.”

“I _just_ sat down, Vasir.”

“And now you can stand back up.” She shook his head and dismissed her omni-tool, then headed into the hold. “Watch your back,” she called over her shoulder, almost as an afterthought. “Taking the bridge was too easy. Bet you fifty credits there’s a bunch of them waiting to ambush us.”

Tazzik muttered something her translator didn’t catch, probably derogatory, but heavy footsteps followed her, and that was what mattered.

The job was simple. A gang of thieves had raided a shipment headed for a Sur’Kesh museum, and made off with everything they could grab in the time they had. She’d been in the area, so the Council had called her up and asked her to take it back. A quick call to Tazzik for backup, and they were on their way. Not that she’d _said_ she needed backup. Really, all she’d said was, “Hey, Tazzik, you wanna make a couple thousand credits?”

Some Spectres had their romantic partners to help them on the job. She had a tank-sized salarian whose first loyalty was to his bank account.

The contents of the cargo hold, if you asked Vasir, weren’t as impressive as the shipment guards had made them seem. Crates were strewn about haphazardly, making a veritable maze of gray. Some were close enough together there wasn’t enough room to squeeze her hand between, others spread out far enough apart for even Tazzik to lie down flat on the ground and still have room to stretch.

“Alright, so how are we supposed to inventory this junk?” she asked, looking around. “I don’t see any labels.”

“First of all, why do you expect _me_ to know? Second, there should be a keypad on each one, those will have a contents list.”

Vasir rolled her eyes and gestured off to her right. “You take that side, I’ll take this one, meet in the middle?”

“Fine.”

The plodding footsteps behind her veered away, and she continued on straight. Tazzik was good company and better backup; he just wasn’t one for friendly conversation that wasn’t preceded and accompanied by alcohol.

Inventorying stolen crates, it turned out, was dreadfully boring work. There were statues and fossils, tablets and precious works of art. Some of it probably would have been interesting, if she actually got to _see_ it, and if it came with the plaque explaining what it was and why it was important. But no, her job was just staring at crates and pulling up screens on a small holo-display.

Until she came to one crate.

“Hey, Taz,” she said into her comm, “you think anyone will notice if we take a piece or two?”

“If that’s how you’re planning to pay me, no thanks. I don’t barter.”

“Relax, big guy, it’s not for you. I have an idea.”

* * *

Liara blew steam off her mug, looking around the little café. She’d never known Tela to be late once, but as the display on the wall crept slowly towards their arranged meeting time, she had to wonder if there’d be a first time for everything.

There was a _thunk_ , and she jumped, whipping her head back around to see, sure enough, Tela Vasir sliding into the spot opposite her. “Hey,” she said breezily, hand on the small package she’d dropped onto the table.

Liara set her drink down and ran a hand over her scalp. “Hello, Vasir,” she said, hoping she didn’t come off as startled as she’d been. Tela seemed to have a knack for sneaking in right when Liara wouldn’t expect her, no matter how small that window was. She eyed the package, tilting her head slightly. “What’s that?”

“A gift.” Tela pushed it to her. “Found it while I was out, thought you might like it. Well, me and Tazzik found it, but it was all me.”

Liara raised a brow, but pulled the little box closer and peeled it open. “Should I ask _where_ you found it?”

“Probably not, no.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Liara’s lips, but it was quickly dropped when she saw what was in the box. “Oh… Oh, _Vasir,_ I don’t…”

She almost couldn’t pick up the book inside. It felt like it might be sacrilegious in some way. An _old_ book, with a cover slightly frayed at the corners and _real paper_. The script on the cover was an older style of writing, but written in multiple languages, with the standardized script that had been gradually worked into Galactic Standard with salarian help at the very bottom. The variety, to her amusement, was explained by the title: _Why Slang Doesn’t Translate: An Examination of the Evolution of Language Across Thessia._

“It was the only one I could find that sounded like something you’d like,” Tela admitted. “Can’t exactly give it back, either…”

“It’s incredible,” Liara said, glancing up at her with a beaming grin. “Thank you.”

Tela smiled back, leaning back in her seat. “Does this absolve me of missing our date a couple months ago?”

Liara laughed, a short little sound from the middle of her chest. “Of course.”


End file.
